Once Upon a Love Affair
by DelicateKTheory
Summary: He told her they had to wait, so she did...for nearly fourteen years. Madison Reso had spent a large part of her young adulthood pining for Chris Jericho. Now, as she stands face to face with Chris, she begins to wonder if she really has moved on.
1. Fourteen Years Ago

**Disclaimer: I do not own Chris Jericho or anything else pretaining to World Wrestling Entertainment. I am just a fan; and I am not profiting from writing this piece.**

* * *

**Fourteen Years Ago -- Summer of 1995**

I was sitting tensely in the passenger's seat of Chris's rusted, old pick-up truck. He was silent, staring blankly out of his rolled down window. His long, blonde hair was blowing in the slight summer breeze; and the burning end of his cigarette sent ringlets of smoke into the night's sky. Chris took another drag off of it and exhaled loudly.

"Can I get one of those?" I squeaked, looking down at the half-empty pack of cigarettes lying in the console between us.

Chris cast me a cold stare out of the corner of his eye as he flicked his unfinished cigarette out of the window.

"What? Are you just itching to add to your accumulating list of nasty habits?" He countered in a husky, dry tone.

I winced at his words and looked down at the fresh tear in my favorite skirt.

"I didn't know the party was going to be like that."

Chris eyed me again. The moonlight accentuated his blue eyes, making them almost fluorescent.

"Whatever."

I fell silent for a moment.

"You're not going to tell Jay, are you?" I asked in a regrettably child-like voice.

Chris cackled out loud, but there was no humor behind it.

"Yeah, like I really want to be the one to tell him that his baby sister was almost raped at a party she shouldn't have been at."

I grimaced again.

"I know…I know."

"No," Chris spat, turning to me. "No, Madison, I don't think you do. You're a smart kid, so how could you be so damn stupid? What would you have done if I was still wrestling in Mexico City and hadn't been home? What then? Why would you even go to a party like that by yourself?"

"I-I don't know," I replied with a shrug. "Dean seemed so nice at school. I didn't think anything of it when he invited me. I guess I was just excited to be asked out by the most popular guy in school…I-I wasn't thinking straight."

"So I see," Chris nodded, clenching his jaw tightly.

"He said that it would just be a couple of friends. We'd watch TV and eat cold pizza. That was it. That was all there was supposed to be."

"And you actually believed that?" He chuckled darkly, shaking his head. "If he's the most popular guy in school, there is no such thing as an innocent party."

I nodded and pursed my lips to keep from crying.

"Y-yeah," My voice was barely above a whisper. "I know that now."

"I'm only coming down on you like this because…" Chris trailed off, sighing.

"I understand. It was a senseless act of rebellion that nearly cost me my innocence. You're just reiterating the fact."

Chris glanced at me, his facial features softened, and then he laughed. It was a genuine laugh.

He smiled, causing me to blush. That was an automatic response. Chris's smile always made me nervous because he made it seem as though he were about to divulge to me a dirty secret. Add that little mannerism in with the boyish good-looks and borderline-bad-boy charm, and Chris Jericho was a lethal individual. Being sixteen and having to sit next to that kind of perfection was anything but pleasant.

"Leave it to you to try to sound mature during a time of colossal immaturity."

"You were sixteen once…I'm sure you had your moments of utter stupidity."

Chris shook his head. "Nope, nothing comes to mind."

"Well, aren't you just a saint," I rolled my eyes, finally able to smile.

"Yes," he flashed me a smirk. "Yes, I am."

I may have been teasing, but Chris was indeed a saint. If it hadn't been for him, I would have been trapped at that deviant sex-spot otherwise known as Dean's parents' house. If it hadn't been for him, I would have had more than torn clothing…

I glanced down at Chris's right hand. He had had it concealed for the last thirty minutes or so, but now it was clutched around the steering wheel. By the dim light of the moon, I could see that the knuckles were swollen and the surrounding flesh was becoming slightly discolored.

"How's your hand?" I asked.

Chris looked down at it and replied, "Hurts like hell."

I frowned. "I'm sorry…again."

He smirked, grabbing my chin in between his index finger and thumb.

"You're worth it."

"Well, that's good to know," I smiled, looking away from his gentle gaze, "Otherwise, you sent him flying off the porch for nothing."

Chris stared at me for a moment and then let me go.

"Can I go home now?"

Shortly after picking me up from Dean's, Chris had pulled into the vacant parking-lot of the grocery store; presumably to simmer down after the altercation. We had been sitting there for quite some time.

"I'm not taking you to your mom and dad's looking like that," Chris answered as he glanced over my disheveled appearance.

My strawberry blonde hair was in knots. My make-up was running down my face; and I had dried blood underneath my fingernails from where I had clawed my way out from under an intoxicated Dean.

"We're going to go back to my apartment so you can wash-up. I'll drop you off afterward."

"Okay."

Chris turned his keys in the ignition. His truck made several agonizing coughs before it finally roared to life. Then we peeled out of the parking-lot.

Chris had a very small, very modest apartment. It was all he could afford while he worked his way up the professional wrestling ladder…just like my brother. Chris had been living and wrestling in Mexico for nearly two months. I knew he wouldn't be in this place for long. He never was. I gave it two, three weeks tops. As soon as Japan or Germany beckoned for him to perform, the apartment would be on the market again.

I washed my face and hands thoroughly and then I brushed my hair. Chris had given me one of his Beatles T-shirts to replace my blouse, which had been ripped in the melee as well. There wasn't much I could do about my skirt, but my parents wouldn't look too closely at for it to matter. I stood in front of Chris's bathroom sink and rehearsed the story I was going to tell them when they asked why I went to Jen's house wearing one thing and came back wearing another.

I sighed.

Telling one lie to replace another…I was developing nasty habits after all.

"Madison," Chris lightly tapped on the bathroom door, "Is everything all right?"

"Yes, everything's fine."

I sighed again, taking a whiff of my shirt collar. It smelled like Chris.

"Have you eaten yet?"

"No," I replied, shaking my head as if he could see.

"Would Ramen noodles be all right? That's all I have right now."

I smiled as I opened the bathroom door.

Chris was standing a few inches from me. His powder-blue dress shirt was unbuttoned; a white muscle shirt was underneath it and drawing attention to his abdomen. He had his thumps through the belt loops of his jeans. How could I focus on eating noodles when he was dressed like that?

"That's fine," I squeaked, "but it's not necessary. I'm not that hungry."

"No, ma'am," Chris swished his index finger back and forth. "I will not accept that. I demand that you eat. You owe me that much, don't you think?"

"I-I guess I do," I replied, looking down at me feet.

"Well, come on then. You go make yourself comfortable on the couch, and I'll get the water boiling."

Chris gestured for me to step in front of him.

It felt like déjà vu, only there were minor differences. Instead of sitting tensely in the passenger's seat with Chris next to me, I was sitting tensely on Chris's sofa with him next to me. The scent of the piping-hot Ramen noodles mingled with the aroma of Chris's cologne. We were silent again. I swirled my fork aimlessly around my bowl.

"Do you want to go to the police?" Chris asked, causing me to jump and nearly spill noodles into my lap. "I'm sure they could charge him with assault at least."

I looked up at him and forced a laugh.

"They could charge you just as easily. You hit him."

"I suppose that's true."

He fell silent for a moment.

"You just tell me what to do, Madison, and I'll do it."

"Just don't tell my brother," I repeated, smiling at how selfless he was. "This has to stay between us. We need to take it to the grave. If Jay knew, you and I both know he'd kill the guy."

"It stays between us," Chris promised with a nod of understanding.

"Good..." I sighed and then gave him a look of desperation. "With that out of the way…I guess it would be stupid of me to ask if I could stay the night, huh? I just…I feel safer…protected here…with you."

Chris frowned, but it was more out of pity than disapproval.

"I don't think your parents would be too keen with that; and Jay would most certainly blow his top if he knew…However, you can stay here a while longer…just until your curfew."

"I'll take it."

More silence followed.

"So..."

"So…What?" I countered.

Chris smirked as he twirled some noodles onto his fork and ate them.

"How's school going?"

I laughed.

"School, seriously? Out of all the things we could talk about, you wanna talk about how I'm doing in school?"

"Well, excuse me." He held up a hand defensively. "You weren't exactly jumping in with an intriguing topic of conversation here. I had to ask something to get the ball rolling."

"School is fine," I giggled, putting a strand of hair behind my ear, "A's as usual."

"That's my girl," Chris said, grinning.

I giggled again, but this time out of nervousness.

"How's that wrestling thing going so far?" I asked as a shoveled a heap of noodles into my mouth. How classy.

"Have you not seen my apartment?" he asked, raising a brow.

I laugh as I casually looked around his place. I had seen better things come out of a dumpster. "That good, huh?"

"I'll get there one day," he said with a slight sigh.

I smiled. "I know you will…Jay, too…Then you'll both leave me in the dust."

It was meant to be a joke, but there was some seriousness to it. Once they got their big break, I knew I would only see them sporadically…if that much.

"Doubtful," Chris smirked again. "We'll need someone to share the glory with."

"That's what wives and children are for," I pointed out.

Chris chuckled, eating some more noodles.

"Marriage is out of the question at the moment; and children…could you see me as a father?" He laughed at the thought and looked at something on the grungy wall in front of us. "I mean, if I had a daughter, I would probably spend all of her teenage years worrying about whether or not she has a guy like me watching out for her whenever she attends high school parties with horny eighteen-year-old boys."

I looked down at my half-empty bowl. Even though he was doing it in jest, I wished he would stop mentioning my stupidity; although, I could not blame him for doing so.

"I'm sorry," he sighed. "That was inappropriate."

Chris looked away from me and gazed deep into the distance. It seemed as though he were reliving the events of this evening.

"When I saw you tonight…" he began, his voice barely above a whisper. "When you were running toward me with that look in your eyes…I thought something had happened to you…" He looked at me and made a gesture like something invisible was being ripped out of him. "It was like my heart had been ripped out of my chest."

He paused for a beat.

"You wouldn't have to worry about Jay getting to him. If that guy had hurt you, I would have put him six-feet-under myself. I wouldn't even think twice about it."

I was silent for a minute.

What could I say to that? That was either the sweetest or the most disturbing thing a man (other than my brother) had ever said to me. In turn, I responded with the only thing I could think to say to him at a time like this…

"Thank you…for everything."

Right as I was about to kiss Chris's cheek, he turned to look at me. I kissed him on the mouth instead.

I froze, millimeters from his soft lips. His brow was furrowed. He was both shocked and confused. Why wasn't I pulling away? I didn't know. An invisible force, something beyond my control was telling me to proceed. I kissed him again and let my lips linger on top of his. I was waiting for him to tell me to stop. To my surprise, he didn't. He only stared.

Chris's lips parted with ease as I kissed him for a third time. He was hesitant for a moment before he started kissing me back.

I had been kissed a time or two in my young adolescent life, but those—those paled in comparison. However, I didn't expect anything less from a man that had virtually been ripped out a story book.

I relished in the splendor of Chris's mouth; the texture of his tongue and the bittersweet taste of his saliva. However, maybe I relished a little too much, because he quickly jerked back.

"No," he said to me gruffly, gently pushing me away. The color in his face had disappeared; and his blue eyes were filled with regret.

"No?" I decided to play dumb, as if I hadn't just embarrassed us both.

"No. You, me, us..."

Chris's eyes fell to the floor as he set his bowl on the coffee table. By the expression on his face, I had definitely crossed the line.

"I'm sorry," I quickly apologized. "I'm so sorry. You probably don't even like me in that way. It's probably like frenching your sister, right? God, I'm really not thinking straight at all tonight."

"I led you on," he said as he shifted to look at me.

A few strands of his flawless blonde hair fell into his eyes, so he brushed them behind his ear.

"No, no, it's not your fault," I shrugged, setting my bowl next to his. "I've had a pretty traumatic evening…It was a moment of weakness on my part."

I bit my lower lip as I cast him a gaze out of the corner of my eye. Moment of weakness or not, I wanted to kiss him again. I knew he could feel my wanton desire. It was radiating off of me like rays from the midday sun.

Chris sighed as he stared at me. He leaned over and grabbed both of my hands. He brought them to his lips and kissed my knuckles.

"You are a terrific girl, quite incredible actually; but we can't do this, sweetheart…not right now."

Not now? Did that mean that he wanted to?

"When can we then?" I asked without hesitating…or thinking for that matter.

Chris looked at me, slightly surprised by my bluntness.

He smirked, grabbing my chin the way he had earlier and forcing me into look into those eyes of his.

"When I get there," he replied, "…and whenever you get a high school diploma."

I laughed.

"I might hold you to that."


	2. Dateless in Manhattan

**Disclaimer: I do not own Chris Jericho or anything else pretaining to World Wrestling Entertainment. I am just a fan; and I am not profiting from writing this piece.**

* * *

**Present Day -- Christmas Eve**

Parties…I loathe any kind of party. They make me very neurotic in nature. I often find myself locating all the available exits when I attend social functions; and my boss's annual Christmas party is no exception. The exits are promptly located upon entry into Mr. Dalton's lavish apartment; and I always make sure that I remain close to one of them throughout the course of the evening. Despite that I have worked closely with half of these people for years, I do not trust them. I learned a long time ago to not trust people.

Another rule of thumb for attending such social functions is to always come with someone. Usually, my boyfriend Nick was on my arm for this kind of party, but unfortunately he couldn't attend this evening. He had been in Paris for business; and due to a blizzard, his flight had been cancelled. I panicked at the thought of having to attend this party alone, but then again, what are older brothers for?

Jay had to work a wrestling event in Tulsa, Oklahoma; but during his layover, he hopped on a plane to New York instead of Florida. He was supposed to be here by now.

I slinked off to the kitchen to escape the dull roar of conversations and Christmas music. I fumbled around in my tiny satin handbag for my cell phone. I quickly dialed Jay's number.

"Hey, this is Jay. You've reached my voicemail, so leave your name and number after the beep. I may or may not get back to you. If your message is business-related, I'll get back to you. If not, it depends. If you're a fan, how the fu―"

_Beep!_

I rolled my eyes. He really needed to change that voicemail message.

"Jay," I sighed, looking down at me elegant wrist-watch. "It's me, Madison…again. I've already called twice and I haven't heard a word. Where are you? I thought you said you would here by roughly eight-thirty…It's now nine forty-five. I'm getting slightly concerned, you insensitive prick. Would you please get back to me when you get this?"

It wasn't like Jay to stand me up. He had been my most dependable back-up date for almost every occasion known to man. He attended my senior prom, my boss's daughter's wedding, and several other social events that my company has hosted. I was sure that, if Jay didn't show up, he had a good excuse. Well, if he valued his wrestling career, he had better have a good excuse. If he had simply forgotten, then I would have no other choice but to shatter every major bone in both of his legs.

"Hey there, Ms. Reso…"

Jesse Millhouse was standing in the doorway as I emerged from the kitchen. He was thrusting a champagne glass into my face.

I leapt back, startled.

"Ummm…Hi, Jesse..."

Jesse was a lanky, awkward young man. For reasons unbeknownst to me, he breathed heavily all the time, as if he had ran a marathon before coming to work. In addition to that odd little quirk, he also carried around a handkerchief that was used to dab the invisible condensation on his forehead. He was fresh out of college and currently shadowed me as my assistant until he had enough experience to join the rest of the design team at Dalton & Sons Advertising. He took his assistant job seriously…too seriously.

Even though I don't drink, I took the glass from Jesse anyway. I could foresee the man having an aneurysm if I refused.

"How are you tonight, Ms. Reso?" he asked, sheer delight passing over his face as he watched me feign a sip of champagne. It was a disturbing stare that he gave me; one equivalent to a love-struck teenager. This bothered me tremendously, so I tried to politely smile, nod, and take my leave. However, even with the subtle hints, Jesse didn't move to let me pass.

"I'm doing well, Jesse. Thank you for asking." I replied in hopes that a direct response would earn me my ticket to freedom.

I shuffled uncomfortably as I watched my subordinate's eyes scanning my body. I inwardly cringed at the thought of him mentally removing my strapless, red, chiffon dress. His beady little eyes paused at my legs and then weaseled their way up the rest of my body, to the curvature of my breasts—where they remained fixated.

I cleared my throat. Because I was certain that he had been drinking, I was willing to let this little indiscretion slide.

"If I may say so, you look stunning this evening," he murmured incoherently. His eyes were still glued to my breasts.

"Well, thank you, but if you want me to consider that a sincere compliment—" I lifted his chin so that he was staring into my eyes. "You may want to try looking into my eyes next time."

Jesse's eyes widened and all the blood rushed to his face.

I giggled.

"Don't worry. Because I like you, I won't file a sexual harassment suit."

I shook my head and patted his shoulder as I walked passed.

When I was certain that he was no longer watching me, I shuttered. Without Jay by my side, I would have to deal with Jesse following me around like a dog in heat for the rest of the night. If he saw an opening, I knew he would take advantage of it. Wonderful…I rummaged through my handbag to make sure that I had brought pepper spray. While I was checking for it, I looked at my phone again.

No messages.

"Damn it, Jay. Where are you?" I muttered bitterl,y zipping my bag closed.

Eggnog, champagne, cheap suits, and cigar smoke…those things provided a gentlemen's-club-like atmosphere as opposed to a semi-formal party, but I was a trooper. I made my rounds and chatted with a few people from my department. Jay still had yet to show up. It had been twenty minutes since I had called him; and I had not received any calls. I was going crazy with worry.

I needed a smoke.

I slipped out of the apartment, gave a nod to the fellow at the front desk, and went outside. It was freezing, probably several degrees below zero; and here I was in a dress. I wrapped my coat tightly around my body, but it did little to knock off the chill. The slight breeze sent fresh snow flakes into my face as I stood beneath the canopy of the apartment building. I looked up at the night's sky as a jetliner flew overhead.

I sighed as I took a long drag off of my cigarette. I had doubts that Nick would make it home for Christmas; and I had doubts that Jay was going to show period. His flight had probably been cancelled as well. Once again, I was going to be spending Christmas alone. This would be my third consecutive Christmas spent curled-up on the couch, in my spacious studio apartment, watching _Gone with the Wind_ and opening the few presents I had bought for myself. Could things get any worse?

With my cigarette hanging from my lips, my numb hands fumbled restlessly in my handbag for my phone. I dialed Jay's number for the fourth time this evening.

"Hey, this is Jay. You've reached my voicemail, so leave your name and number after the beep. I may or may not get back to you…"

I growled, hanging up. What was the point of leaving him another message?

It was clear to me now that Jay wasn't coming. I was going to have to stomach this party, for another two hours, by myself. Maybe I could sneak out early? Hell, I could leave now and no one would notice. I could go to the parking deck, get in my car, and go home. Mr. Dalton had so many guests in his apartment that he wouldn't notice my absence; therefore, he wouldn't be offended by my early departure.

No, I couldn't leave. I would be covered with snow by the time I made it to the parking garage. Oh well, I could wait downstairs until the snow ceased and then trudge to the parking garage. I put out my cigarette and headed for the door.

A sandy blonde-haired gentleman, wearing a leather jacket, held the door open for me.

"Thank—"

My words left me as I gazed up at the polite stranger. I was greeted by a pair of familiar, warm, bright blue eyes. Those eyes had haunted my dreams for the better part of my adolescence, so I recognized the man without having to study the rest of his face.

"C-C-Chris?" I stammered.

My heart took one ferocious shot at my ribcage; and then it ceased beating all together.


	3. The Great Prentender

**Disclaimer: I do not own Chris Jericho or anything else pretaining to World Wrestling Entertainment. I am just a fan; and I am not profiting from writing this piece.**

* * *

My mouth was moving, but no words seemed to follow as I gawked at the man that had repeatedly broken my heart over the years.

For a brief instant, the Chris Jericho that I was more familiar with manifested in front of me—the Chris Jericho from the early 1990's, with the long, bleached-blonde hair, tattered blue jeans, and white muscle shirt. I was angry at that Chris. In fact, I downright hated that Chris. He was the one that had conned me into buying all his promises.

I shook my head, as if to shake out the image.

"C-Chris?" I repeated again. My voice was still faltering.

Chris's brow furrowed.

"Madison?" He sounded slightly surprised. "When did you dye your hair?"

I twirled my brunette locks between my fingers.

"A while ago..." I answered dryly.

He flashed me that perfect-white-teeth, knee-weakening smile. Suddenly, I felt as though I were sixteen years old again. Damn him.

"It looks great. You look great…Sorry, I know I'm late. The directions Jay gave me were eligible to say the least. I've been driving around Manhattan for half-an-hour…I must have driven past this place ten times before I realized that _Aumonte_ was actually _Dumonte_."

"Jay," I arched a brow. "Where is Jay?"

"One of the other wrestlers had to pull out of a scheduled autograph session in Kansas City," he explained, gesturing for me to step inside.

I hesitantly obliged.

We shook off the snow flakes and then walked along side one another, toward the elevator.

"WWE asked him to fill in at the last minute…He asked me to tell you that he's sorry that he couldn't make it to your party."

"Okay, but that still doesn't explain why _you're_ here." That sounded more biting than I had intended for it to be. It was due to the frustration I had been harboring all evening…Okay, maybe it wasn't _just_ about this evening.

Chris seemed slightly hurt by my tone, but he let the remark roll off his back.

"He didn't want you spending the holidays alone, so he asked me to come on his behalf."

"I see," I muttered, pressing the up arrow to open the elevator doors.

I silently stepped onto the elevator. Chris followed with reluctance.

"If this bothers you…" Chris began, but I cut him off.

"Why would it bother me?" I cackled snidely. "Unless you count the handful of times I've watched wrestling, I haven't seen you in five years. You never call me. You never write. So, why would it bother me that you suddenly have the gumption to show up like some knight in shining armor to spend Christmas with me?"

I saw Chris wince out of the corner of my eye.

"I suppose I deserve that."

"Oh, no," I shook my head in disagreement. "You deserve much more than that, but seeing as I'm in the holiday-spirit, I'll cut my tongue-lashing short."

Chris was silent for a moment.

"You're more catty than I remember," he chuckled tensely.

"Well, you're exactly how I remember," I countered.

The elevator dinged as we reached our destination.

"Except now you have stupid haircut," I added as I stepped onto the third floor.

Chris remained inside of the elevator. He had his hand in front of the doors to prevent them from closing.

"Perhaps this wasn't a good idea. I didn't expect you to welcome me with open arms, but if you would much rather spend Christmas alone, then I'm just going to leave you to it. It was nice seeing you again, Madison."

He removed his hand from the doors.

Spend a couple awkward hours with Chris or spend a couple awkward hours trying to convince Jesse that he wasn't going to get into my pants, not now, not ever? The obvious winner here was Chris.

"Wait," I sighed, sticking my hand between the doors before they had a chance to close. "Don't go."

Chris eyed me, putting his thumbs into his belt loops.

That familiar motion must have triggered a distant memory, because the old Chris presented himself to me again; and he was just as vivid as before.

_"Do you want to go to the police?" _

"No," I replied in a hushed tone.

I backed away from the elevator.

"All right," Chris nodded, looking at me confused as the doors started closing again. "Well, I guess I'll see you around then."

I rushed to grab the doors.

"Wait, what? Where are you going?"

I was just as befuddled as he was. What the hell was going on?

"Make up your mind," he chuckled. "Are you or are you not sure that you can handle my presence for the next two days?"

"I can handle you for two days," I replied, slowly getting my wits about me. "Just get off the damn elevator."

Chris laughed again, "Yes, ma'am."

He stepped off the elevator.

We walked the twenty paces to Mr. Dalton's apartment in silence. All the while, Chris's cologne wafted into my nostrils. Ugh. He still smelled the same.

"You look beautiful," he said suddenly.

I looked over at him and giggled a little bit.

"I believe you've mentioned that already."

"No. Before I said you looked great, I never said anything about how beautiful you looked. There is a difference."

In spite of myself, I smiled.

"I see you haven't lost your charm."

We reached the door of the apartment. It was already ajar, so I pushed it open. I was going to let Chris go ahead of me, but he declined.

"Ladies first…"

I gave him a weak smile and stepped in front of him.

"Let me get your coat," he said. He was already peeling it off of my shoulders before I had a chance to object.

Was he trying to kiss my ass because he knew that I was upset, or was he naturally this polite? I couldn't recall. It had been a while since I had had an interaction with him that wasn't a mechanical one.

I turned around to thank him and saw that he was shedding his leather jacket. He was dressed in semi-formal wear. He had a navy blue blazer over a black cotton T-shirt. If I was not so peeved at him, I would have found him attractive…very attractive.

Chris noticed me looking him over and smiled slightly.

"Jay mentioned that this was somewhat a formal affair. I didn't pack an extra suit, so I hope that I'm not too underdressed."

"You look fine," I said, trying to sound blasé about his efforts to be presentable for me. "You couldn't be any worse than Jay. The last time he came with me to one of these things; he wore one of those T-shirts with a tuxedo printed on it. He looked like a complete idiot among all the actual suits."

He chuckled. "That sounds like him."

He took both our coats and stacked them neatly over his right arm.

We stared at one another for a moment.

I still couldn't believe that he was actually in front of me. Was this my worst nightmare or a dream come true? Whatever it was, I was sure that I would wake up at any moment.

"Shall we?" he asked, nodding toward the crowd.

"I suppose," I sighed.

He extended his left arm to me, which I begrudgingly took a hold of.

"So, tell me," Chris began as we headed into the sea of people, "Besides being a delectable piece of arm-candy, what does being a Madison Reso escort entail?"

I cast him a sideways glance, unfazed by his attempt to lighten the mood.

"Nothing, really," I replied. "I'm just uncomfortable with social functions."

"So, I'm here to make things more comfortable for you?"

"That's the general idea, yes."

Chris fell silent for a brief moment and then laughed.

"In that case…I picked the wrong time to volunteer."

I laughed a little as well.

"Well, if you refrain from speaking for the rest of the evening, I can just pretend that you're my boyfriend Nick; thus eliminating the awkwardness."

Chris pulled my arm slightly closer to his body. I tried to resist but it was to no avail. The heat from his body cocooned my bare arm like a blanket.

"Sure, I can play pretend," he reassured. "I make a living doing so."

I glanced over at him.

It must have been nice to finally be getting paid for his well-crafted performances. No one could pretend to care better than Chris Jericho.


	4. Good Box of Porn

**Disclaimer: I do not own Chris Jericho or anything else pretaining to World Wrestling Entertainment. I am just a fan; and I am not profiting from writing this piece.**

* * *

Could Chris be any more nauseatingly perfect? My guess was yes. He had charmed his way into my small work-circle. The women were swooning; and my boss, as well as my boss's boss, was impressed by his worldliness. At this rate, he was a shoe-in for an invitation to come back next year. Goody.

I cringed at the thought of introducing Chris to Nick.

"Nick, current love of my life, meet Chris, the diabolical bastard that had me pining over him for the majority of my youth."

I had never spoken of Chris to Nick, but it looked like I was going to have to dig up the past that I had spent my twenties burying. I had high hopes that Chris would be gone before Nick arrived. I didn't feel like drudging up my past just yet.

I was sitting on Mr. Dalton's crowded leather sofa, peering between a multitude of waists and asses, to catch a few brief glimpses of Chris. He was currently being Mr. Chatty Kathy with some brunette tart from the marketing department. He seemed to be fond of brunettes. The first thing I was going to do tomorrow morning was dye my hair back to its original color.

_"…Walk in a daze and weak with pain. Carry me back to life again…" _

I shrieked. My ringtone! I looked up at Chris to make sure that he hadn't heard it from across the room. I didn't want the man to know that I was actually a fan of one of his many creative outlets—that would only add to his ego.

I read the caller identification.

"Jay, thank God," I answered with a sigh of relief.

I was greeted by a loud, obnoxious yawn.

"I'm sorry," he grumbled. "I forgot to turn my phone on whenever I got off the plane. I just now got settled in my hotel room. I thought I would call you before I hit the sack…And, for the record, when a man is thoughtful enough to send his high-strung baby sister a replacement date, he is not an 'insensitive prick.' You're welcome, by the way."

"He's not a date, Jay," I seethed. "He's Chris."

Jay chuckled.

"I haven't seen him in years. What on earth gave you the notion that it was okay to ask the man to do me a favor?"

"He's my best friend, and I can ask him to do whatever I want. Besides, I couldn't trust anyone else with you."

"I'm thirty-two years old," I grumbled, rolling my eyes. "I don't need the birds-and-the-bees song and dance anymore."

Jay yawned again.

"Yeah, you see, I'm hearing that, Madison, but my brain is translating it to, 'I'm still just a baby, Jay. Please, protect me from the evil persons of your gender.'"

I laughed.

"So, how's it going? Are you having a good time?"

"If by 'good time,' you mean, am I enjoying sitting on the sidelines while Chris shamelessly flirts with half the women I work with?" I feigned excitement. "Why yes, I'm having a fabulous time."

"He's a man, Maddie," Jay muttered amidst yet another yawn. "Boobs, short skirts, and cleavage are like catnip. He's naturally going to gravitate towards some slut that shakes her ass in front of him. So you can't expect him to be with you every second…If I didn't know better, I'd say you're a wee bit jealous."

"I'm far from jealous," I spat, glaring at Chris with narrow eyes.

He was now dancing with before mentioned brunette tart from marketing. His fingers were tapping her lower back as they swayed back and forth.

"Okay, who friggin' slow-dances to _Walking in a Winter Wonderland_?"

"Yep," Jay chuckled. "You're definitely jealous."

"That was a rhetorical question; and I said I'm not jealous! If anything, I'm pissed."

"Hey, I don't blame you. He's like a good box of porn on a lonely summer night. So, if I were a woman, I'd be crushing on him."

I shrieked, insulted.

"Oh, so now I have a crush on him, too!"

"Well, duh. If you're jealous because you're currently not the object of his affection, then that kind of implies that you're jonesing for him."

"You obviously need to get some rest," I laughed, "because you're talking crazy-talk now. I will call you tomorrow morning."

"Typical Madison," Jay chuckled. I could almost see him shaking his head at me. "Every time I put you in the hot-seat, you turn-tail and run…"

"I just don't want to get in an argument over this—over Chris."

"Okay, we can go with that…for the time being. But you're right. My think-tank is running low on fuel. But, yeah, be sure you call me. I'd like to get together with you sometime after Christmas. You need to let me know your schedule."

"Okay…I love you."

"I love you, too…and, Madison?"

"Yes, Jay?"

"I know he hasn't been the greatest friend to you lately, but you practically grew up with Chris. You have a history with him, so just take the stick out of your ass and give the poor guy another chance, huh? What's the worst that could happen?"

"Whatever," I mumbled. "I'll talk to you tomorrow."

We exchanged good-byes again and then hung up.

What's the worst that could happen?

My eyes fixed on Chris again as I shoved my phone into my handbag.

The worst that could happen was that I would get stuck within Chris's well-weaved web of lies again. If I dared to let my guard down, I would only end up rekindling my relationship with him; and then he would disappointment all over again. No, there would be no back-tracking. Time had creating such a vast, empty space between Chris and me for a reason. Plus, I had Nick in my life now. I had moved on.

"…'ello, Ms. Reso…"

Not again. Hadn't God torture me enough for one evening?

Jesse was staggering, clearly intoxicated now. He was grinning at me with a dazed expression across his face.

"Hello again, Jesse," I sighed.

"You don't look like you're having a very good time."

"That's because I'm not."

He nodded for no apparent reason and fumbled in his breast pocket for that handkerchief. It took him several minutes to pull it out. He wiped the invisible condensation off his brow and then offered me a somewhat sincere smile.

"Is there anything I can do? Can I get you something?"

"We're not at the office," I forced a smile in return. "You don't have to wait on me hand and foot. Thank you for the gesture, though."

Jesse nodded again.

He stood there and stared at me for several minutes.

"Yes, Jesse, what is it?" I asked, squirming nervously under his gaze.

"Where's, uh, the guy you were with—the 'New Nick, formally known as Chris Jericho?'" he asked, almost losing his footing.

I rolled my eyes and gestured behind him.

"He's dancing."

Jesse whipped his head around in such a humorous way that I had to stifle a laugh. He stared at Chris for a moment and then turned back to me.

"How come he's not dancing with you?"

"You'd have to ask him."

Jesse nodded and dabbed his forehead again.

"Well, I, uh, I have two left feet…but if that doesn't bother you, I'll dance with you…if that doesn't bother you…"

Dance with Rain Man or watch Chris with the brunette tart? I would much rather watch Chris with the tart unless…

I had quickly glanced in Chris's direction, only to find that he was looking at me. That was enough to sway me to the dark side.

"Fine," I replied with a sigh, "Just keep your hands above my waist; and I had better not catch you looking south again."

"Yes'm," Jesse nodded, blushing as he extended his hand.

I groaned as I grabbed the sweaty appendage and rose to my feet.

This was going to be interesting.


	5. History Repeats Itself

**Disclaimer: I do not own Chris Jericho or anything else pretaining to World Wrestling Entertainment. I am just a fan; and I am not profiting from writing this piece.**

* * *

I could hear the chiffon fabric of my dress ripping. That familiar sound had me frozen in fear. Meanwhile, my dance partner was inadvertently feeling me up during his vain attempt to keep his balance. Jesse may have been drunk, but he was still very aware of his actions. This was the opening he had been yearning for all night. Alcohol had just given him the courage to follow through with whatever he had in mind.

"Jesse," I grunted, trying my best to get out of his clutches. "I need to go sit down."

He gave me a desperate, pleading look. He followed that up by accidentally stomping on my foot with his size eleven dress shoe.

"Okay…Let's just have one more dance, though."

I fell short of breath and grimaced as I felt Jesse's fingertips digging into the small of my back.

"My feet are tired," I whimpered unconvincingly.

The more I resisted, the more painful Jesse's grip became.

I tried to cry out for Chris, only to have his name escape my lips in a faint whisper. A whisper that was inaudible to the human ear; and I couldn't reach my pepper spray.

"Get off!" I squeaked, pushing against Jesse's chest as hard as I could.

He stumbled, but didn't let go of me.

_"Take it easy. Calm down."_

Where had I heard that before? Better yet, where was that blood-curdling scream coming from?

The music had stopped; the room fell silent; and then a gust of wind engulfed me.

A strong hand had grabbed Jesse by the shirt collar and yanked him off me. In that same instant, the corner of my dress ripped completely, partially exposing the side of my right breast.

"I believe the lady asked you to let her go," Chris muttered calmly into Jesse's ear.

He loosened his grip on Jesse's shirt collar, but he didn't let him go. His eyes were fixed on me as he continued to speak to the younger man.

"Now, I know the champagne and eggnog have impaired your cognitive abilities temporarily, but are your ears broken, kid? She said no; and when a woman says no, you respect her wishes. If that's too difficult for your feeble brain to understand, then you and I can step outside…I'll be more than happy to clear up any misconceptions."

Mr. Dalton made his way through the crowd with ease. His two hundred and fifty pound frame towered over the others like an intimating edifice of absolute power. He glanced at me, then to Jesse, and finally to Chris for an explanation.

"What's going on here?"

"Oh, just a meeting of the minds, Mr. Dalton," Chris answered, flashing him a disarming smile as he turned Jesse loose. "I think Jesse here has had a little too much to drink. He needs to apologize to Ms. Reso; and then someone should probably call him a cab before he embarrasses himself any further."

"Jesse?" Mr. Dalton was eyeing him in disgust.

Jesse said nothing as he looked down at the floor.

"Apologize," Chris said to him. It wasn't a request; it was a demand.

Jesse complied, but his lips were barely moving.

"We're going to discuss this incident first thing Monday morning. I want to see the both of you in my office," Mr. Dalton said as he exchanged glances with Jesse and me. "Until then, Madison, I think it would be best if you have Chris take you home. Mr. Millhouse, after they leave, I want you to go downstairs. I will have Roy call you a cab." He turned to his other guests. "As for everyone else, let's get back to the party."

Once God had spoken, the party commenced again, as if nothing had happened.

I was still frozen in place.

I stared at Chris blankly as he cautiously advanced toward me.

"Are you all right?" he asked.

I gave him a weak, unconvincing nod and crossed my arms over my semi-exposed chest. I shouldn't have been so coy; it wasn't like he hadn't seen me naked before.

He slipped off his blazer and carefully draped it over my shoulders.

"Here," he said softly. His hot breath blanketed my skin as he spoke. "Put your arms in. This should cover you up some…Let me go get our coats, and then we can go."

I nodded incoherently, watching as the old Chris manifested again and disappeared into the crowd.

We had left my car in the parking garage and were riding Chris's rented Sedan back to my apartment, which was located on the opposite side of Manhattan. The ride was quite lengthy; and we hadn't said a single word. I was still reeling from my relapse into the nightmarish realm of my past-life party experience. At least, I wasn't held down by three brawny football players this time. Still, how ironic was it that Chris had come to my aid not once but twice? I felt as though the universe was conspiring against me. How could I go on despising the man that was constantly saving me from perilous situations? More so, why couldn't I save myself from perilous situations? I was like a hapless child. Chris must have thought I was pathetic.

"Thank you."

"I'm sorry."

We said at once.

Chris chuckled.

"Sorry?" I cast him a bewildered look.

"I shouldn't have kept my distance like that," he responded. "If I had paid more attention to you, I could have prevented that whole embarrassing situation."

"It's my fault," I shrugged off his apology. "Jesse has always had a crush on me. I should have known better than to feed into his fantasies; especially when he's completely trashed."

Chris fumbled blindly with the radio dial and then stopped channel-surfing when he found a heavy metal station that he liked. He turned the volume down several notches, so that the music wouldn't disrupt the conversation.

"I can fully understand why you've developed a buddy system."

I looked nodded, and muttered, "History tends to repeat itself with me."

"I'm sorry," he apologized again.

I said nothing in response.

We fell silent again; and we stayed that way for what seemed like hours.

Chris turned up the music, only to turn it back down mere minutes later.

"Are you hungry?" he asked. "I don't mind stopping to get you something."

"No, thank you. I had already made plans for a late-night, home-cooked meal with Jay…You're welcome to take his seat at the table."

I had made the offer without thinking; but I'm not one to take words back.

Chris probably detected that I was uneasy with the idea, and maybe that is why he politely declined.

"No, that's all right…After I drop you off at your place, I need to check myself into a hotel…Tomorrow morning I will swing by to pick you up, so we can go get your car…After that, we can part ways or spend Christmas together. I'm going to leave that up to you; but you don't have to let me know your decision right now. Sleep on it and get back to me."

"O—kay."

We were quite again.

Chris kept his eyes on the somewhat treacherous roadways as we ventured further into the night.

"Madison?"

"Yes?" I answered, looking out my window.

"I liked that ringtone, by the way—very cool."


	6. Cookiecutter Smiles

**Disclaimer: I do not own Chris Jericho or anything else pretaining to World Wrestling Entertainment. I am just a fan; and I am not profiting from writing this piece.**

* * *

The snow was falling heavily by the time Chris and I arrived at my apartment building. We were forced to use one another as guides while we trudged through the white windstorm, into the building. My apartment was on the second floor, the last unit on the right. By the time Chris and I made it to the door, we had nearly ceased our involuntary shivering.

"One cryogenically frozen professional wrestler in his prime: Check," Chris muttered between chattering teeth.

I looked at him, laughed faintly, and then tried to fish my keys out of my handbag. My hands were so numb that I had difficulty gripping them. I was hoping that Chris would think my inability to get my key into the door was due to me being cold and not anxious by his presence.

"You can come in if you'd like," I said in a soft voice as I opened the door. I flipped on the lights as I entered the room.

Chris silently followed me.

I glanced over my shoulder at him and gestured to the slight step-down into the living-room. "Be careful."

I clapped; and the small fireplace in the living-room came to life.

"Are you serious?" Chris laughed. "You actually have a clapper?"

I shrugged, shedding my snow-covered coat and his blazer at the same time.

"It came with the apartment."

Chris had removed his leather jacket as well. He inadvertently flexed his chiseled forearm when he reached out to take the blazer from my hands. I politely declined and took his jackets, along with mine, and placed them on the coat rack in the corner. I caught another whiff of his cologne as I brushed against him.

"You might as well have a seat," I said as I took a few ungraceful steps back. "You really shouldn't be driving with it snowing like this."

"All right," he nodded, "but just until the storm passes."

I stared at Chris for a moment. My heart skipped a couple beats as he warmly gazed back at me.

_Be strong, Madison_, I said to myself. _Be strong_.

I glanced down at a spot on the hardwood floor.

"I'm, uh, going to slip into something a little less…ripped to shreds."

"You do that."

I spun around and sprinted down the hallway.

My expensive dress was ruined. There was no way I could sew up the tear without ruining the dress's appeal. Sadly, I would have to push it into the back of my closet and pray that Nick didn't take notice. He had purchased that dress himself last Valentine's Day. He would be upset if he found out I had ruined it.

After washing the make-up off my face, I dressed in a white tank top and pair of gray, terrycloth lounging pants. When I returned to the living-room, I saw that Chris standing at the entertainment center. He was glancing over the array of photographs that were on the shelf above the television.

I hesitantly walked up to him.

He had one photograph in particular in his hands. It was the studio shot that Nick and I had taken this past spring; it had one of those cheap park-like backdrops. I was sitting on the fake grass; and Nick was sitting behind me with his arms around my neck. We had happy-go-lucky, cookie-cutter smiles plastered across our faces.

"Is this him?" Chris asked as he looked down at the photo.

"Yes," I replied.

He nodded for no apparent reason and set the photo back on the shelf. He stared at it for another minute or two and then looked over at me.

"How long have you two been together, if you don't mind me asking?"

"Oh…" I paused for a brief moment, trying to recall that bit of information. "Three years in March."

Chris offered me a smile. "Congratulations."

"Thanks."

I gestured for him to have a seat on the white leather sofa.

He complied; and I joined him.

"Jay must think highly of him."

Chris was well-aware of my brother's notorious habit of chasing off guys that he deemed unfit to be with me.

I nodded, "Very much so…It was bromance at first sight."

I could have stopped right there—I should have stopped right there—but for some reason I felt the need to divulge more information. It was as if I were trying to prove that Nick and I were a match made in Heaven.

"We I met while I was designing the ad logo for one of his firm's big architectural projects. He's a very stubborn, persistent man. He must have asked me out a dozen times before I said yes; but we've been like Jenny and Forrest ever since."

"Nice analogy," Chris chuckled. "So, you two are pretty serious then?"

What kind of a question was that? What made him think that he had the right to ask me such a thing? Well then, I could ask inappropriate questions, too.

Instead of unleashing the wrath of hell upon him, I shrugged off the inquiry as casually as possible.

"He lives here, so yeah, I guess we are," I replied. "I mean, marriage hasn't been laid out on the table yet. He's been struggling to make partner for the last year or so. As soon as he's satisfied with his professional life, I'm sure that his personal life will follow suit."

"It sounds like you have it made."

"I guess."

Chris's posture seemed to change. He seemed to sit in a tenser manner now.

"So, how about you, do you have a love in your life?" I asked.

"I did," he answered with a nod. "We got married actually."

Chris Jericho married? I couldn't help but laugh at the idea.

"That was the worst fourteen days of my life," he added with a slight groan.

I stopped laughing and was rendered speechless for a moment.

"You're being serious, aren't you?"

He nodded.

I blinked, stunned.

"I thought you weren't the marrying kind?"

He smirked; his eyes glistened in the firelight.

"Well, after nine rounds of Campanario tequila, I'm pretty much game for anything."

"That sounds more like you," I giggled.

I stared out the sliding-glass door. My balcony was covered with several inches of snow and more was being added to it with every passing second.

"It looks like I'll have to add a second place-setting after all," I said as I turned my attention back to Chris. "Well…I hope you like spaghetti and don't mind sleeping on the couch."

Chris seemed surprised.

"You don't mind me staying the night?"

"Oh, of course, I mind," I admitted, "but I don't want to be the one that's blamed for your premature death. If you try to drive in that mess, you'll surely be wrestling in that big squared-circle in the sky. I don't want that on my conscience, so you're staying here…Besides, it's the least I can do."

"Well, thank you," he chuckled, "and I appreciate the brutal, slightly hurtful honesty. It's most welcoming."

"It's to accompany that charming Jericho-sarcasm that I haven't missed," I snarled, but a small smile was pulling at the corners of my mouth.

Chris laughed.

I let out a sigh and rose to my feet.

"Come on, free-loader. Give me a hand in the kitchen."


	7. First & Last

**Disclaimer: I do not own Chris Jericho or anything else pretaining to World Wrestling Entertainment. I am just a fan; and I am not profiting from writing this piece.**

* * *

Dinner wasn't as excruciating as I predicted that it would be. Sure, the atmosphere was still tense, but it was almost bearable now. The dinner conversation stayed light and impersonal. Maybe, just maybe, I would survive the next day or so.

Chris helped me wash dishes; and then the two of us settled on the couch with some hot cocoa. It was two in the morning.

The soft sounds of a crackling fire and alternative-rock filled the living-room.

Chris was glancing casually about the room. He seemed to be distraught over the fact that I didn't have one Christmas decoration in sight.

"A tree," he frowned, sipping his cocoa. "Who doesn't put up a Christmas tree?"

"Jews and Jehovah Witnesses, just to name a few," I replied, sarcastically.

He laughed, rolling his eyes.

"Very funny, but you know what I mean…You could at least show some enthusiasm for the holidays."

I shrugged as I tightly gripped my drinking mug with both hands.

"I've been really busy with work; and Nick hasn't been home in a month, so I just haven't found the time to get into the festivities. If it will make you more comfortable, I've got some computer paper and green markers. Draw yourself a tree; and then we'll tape it on the wall. Problem solved."

"Don't tempt me," Chris warned, flashing me a sinister smirk. "Because, once I get started, I won't be able to stop. You'll wake up later in the day to find paper presents under said paper tree; and of course, it wouldn't be Christmas without a couple paper stockings hanging over the fireplace…Then again, that could be a fire hazard. Maybe I should draw a paper fireplace as a safety precaution…Oh, let's not leave out the paper cookies and milk for paper Santa…"

"Okay, okay," I laughed, holding up a hand to stop him. "Nix the paper Christmas idea…Jesus, you'll have a melodramatic monologue about anything, won't you?"

"Pretty much," Chris grinned, innocently sipping his cocoa. "It keeps me entertained…and bugs the hell out of everyone else…But seriously, you shouldn't be such a scrooge. It's very unattractive."

"No, spaghetti sauce on my shirt—" I gestured to the fresh stain on his shirt—"would make me unattractive. A lack of excitement for Christmas just makes me come across as a bitch."

"Hey now, I beg to differ on that first part," Chris smirked. He purposely made his pectoral muscles twitch. "I make any kind of stain look good."

I gulped. My eyes were transfixed on his chest.

He was staring at me, awaiting a come back; but I didn't have one. My mind had gone blank.

"A long pause and no answer," he gave me a crooked grin, "and the winner is Chris Jericho by a stain…Wooo! Victory feels _so_ good."

I snapped out of my trance.

"I let you win."

"I bet you did."

"I did," I insisted. "I've seen how you react when you lose."

"On television doesn't count, because that's an ancient technique called acting."

"Are you mocking me, Chris?"

"I would never," Chris gasped.

I stared at him for a moment.

Being this close to him again was worse than all the lonely nights I had spent crying over him, but I couldn't bring myself to pull away. Why couldn't I? Simple answer: I missed him. The desire to feel the way I used to overshadowed the physical agony that I felt at the moment.

My thoughts must have surfaced on my face, because Chris started to look at me concerned.

"Are you all right?" he asked.

"I'm fine," I squeaked, setting my mug on the glass coffee table. I leaned back against the sofa and shifted to look at him. "Do you ever miss the old days?"

"What do you mean?"

"You, me, and Jay hanging out in your parents' basement, watching Stampede Wrestling, and talking about all the things we were going to do together whenever the two of you made it to the big-time."

"We could still do them," Chris smiled, reflecting on the fond memories.

I frowned.

"No, we can't…You and I haven't been on the same page in so many years. We can't patch this up in one night."

"I know," he grimaced, sighing heavily as he set his mug next to mine. "But we're making a start, aren't we?"

I shrugged in response.

My head told me we were, but my heart wasn't so sure.

We fell into that dreaded awkward silence.

The music that was playing finally registered in our ears.

Marcy Playground's _Sex & Candy_.

"Hey," Chris grinned, laughing a little bit. "Speaking of the old days, it's our song. Do you remember?"

How could I forget? That song was virtually the reason I had stopped listening to alternative-rock to begin with. It was playing on the radio the night we…

It was the night of my high school graduation. I wasn't expecting Chris to show up; because, by that point, he had signed a contact with World Championship Wrestling and was usually traveling to places all across the globe—living his dream…sort of. It wasn't World Wresting Federation, but it was close enough.

Chris and I had snuck into the garage to have some time alone together.

I was sitting on the hood of his pick-up truck; and he was standing in front of me, wearing his tattered blue jeans and white muscle shirt. His long, blonde hair was pulled into a loose ponytail.

The sexual tension hung above us like a rain cloud that was about to erupt.

"You're missing your own party," Chris laughed, putting his thumbs into his belt loops.

I shrugged.

"I'll have others…I rarely get to spend time with you, so I want to take advantage of it…I'm just so glad you came."

"Are you kidding? I wouldn't have missed you walking across that stage for anything in the world."

I blushed and looked down at my sandals for a moment.

"So, how did you get the time off?" I asked.

Chris shrugged.

"I may or may not have told Eric that Japan wanted me for a show."

"You lied?" I giggled. "If he finds out, won't you get in trouble?"

"Maybe," he replied, smirking a little bit, "but right now, I'm more concerned about Jay finding us in here."

"I'm a big girl," I said, crossing my legs. "I can do anything—anyone I want."

"Excuse me?" Chris looked at me with wide eyes. "Could you repeat that?"

I bit my lip and smiled coyly.

"I suppose I should have been clearer. When I said I wanted to take advantage of our time together, I meant that I wanted you to make an honest woman out of me. Consider it a graduation present."

"I haven't seen you in months and you want me to..." Chris laughed hysterically. "You want us to—Are you out of your mind? You _just_ turned eighteen!"

"I know," I nodded. I was just as nervous as he was, but for some reason, I was hiding it a little bit better. "That means that this is perfectly acceptable."

Chris stared at me with panic in his eyes.

"Forget it." He shook his head adamantly. "I'm not having sex with you just because you don't want go away to college still a virgin."

I frowned.

"So, what you're saying is that it's okay for you to lose your virginity to some girl that barely speaks English, but I can't lose mine to someone I trust more than anyone?"

Chris looked at me, surprised.

"You know about that?"

"I overheard you and Jay talking on the phone," I mumbled in response.

Chris was silent for a moment, and then sighed, "You're so young, Madison. You really need to think about what you're asking me here. I don't want you doing something you may regret."

"If it's with you," I responded with the utmost certainty, "I won't."

He couldn't help but smile at that.

"Be that as it may, I'm still uncomfortable with the idea. I'm sorry."

I sighed and then nodded in defeat.

"I understand."

We were silent again.

Chris came to stand beside me.

"The girl…Was she pretty?" I asked in a hushed tone.

"Very."

I laughed.

"That's where you're supposed to lie."

"I could never lie to you."

"Why is that?"

Chris looked over at me.

"I think you know why," he replied in a husky tone.

My heart swelled so big inside of my chest that I thought it was going explode.

My eyes welled with tears; and I forced a smile.

"Don't—if you don't mean it, then please, don't say it…Once it's out there, you can't take it back."

Chris grabbed my hand and squeezed it.

"I don't want to take it back—I'm not going to take it back."

We fell silent again and listened to the soft music coming from the truck radio.

_"I smell sex and candy, yeah…"_

"Dance with me," I said as I drug Chris away from the vehicle.

He raised a brow. "You want to dance right here, right now?"

I nodded.

It felt so good to be in the clutches of those strong arms; it felt so good being close enough to hear Chris's heart pounding wildly inside his chest. We swayed back and forth, staring lovingly into one another's eyes.

"I took a semester of Spanish," I said with a smile.

Chris smirked. "Did you now?"

"_Sí, Se__ñor Jericho_," I answered, grinning.

"And, are you thinking about seducing me that way?"

"_Posible_," I replied.

"Very well," he chuckled in amusement. "Give it your best shot."

I cleared my throat, and in a sultry tone uttered the words, "_Se__ñor Jericho, ¿Puedo ir al ba__ño, por favor?_"

Chris threw back his head and laughed.

"Oh," he purred, licking his lips. "Never has asking for permission to go to the bathroom been so enticing."

"I said I took Spanish. I never said I was good at it."

"Nonetheless, it was adorable," Chris smiled, running his hand through my hair. He looked at me thoughtfully for a moment, then added, "And worthy a consolation prize."

I stared at him, confused.

We stopped dancing.

Chris said nothing as he lowered his lips into the crook of my neck.

I inhaled a sharp breath.

"You win…" He muttered, his lips grazing my skin as he spoke.

I was hoisted onto the hood of his truck, where we made passionate, unrelenting… almost-caught-by-my-father…love for the first and last time. The following day I was headed to New York to start college that fall.

Years went by before Chris and I saw one another again.

"Man, I hate that I totaled that truck," Chris laughed.

He must have been reflecting on the origin of our song as well.

I solemnly nodded as that memory faded into the back of my mind again. However, that old wound had been re-opened; and now I felt as though I were bleeding from the inside-out.

"You promised," I choked on the words.

Chris gave me a puzzled look. "What?"

I glared at him.

"Oh, cut the shit, Christopher," I sneered, fighting back the tears. "You know exactly what I'm referring to. You promised me that, whenever you found the time, you would come and visit me."

"I know," was all he could manage to say.

"I spent half of my college years hoping that you would come knocking down my dorm room door," I continued, ignoring the remorseful tone in his voice. "You never did. All I want to know is why? Why couldn't you keep your promise? You—you told me that we had to wait. I waited… and waited… and waited. So tell me, what was your reason for leaving me high-and-dry? Why wasn't I good enough?"

Chris looked as though I had ripped his heart out of his chest and tossed it into the fireplace.

"Is that what you think?" he asked in a soft voice. "Do you actually believe that you weren't—that you aren't—good enough for me?"

"Well, it's not like I've been receiving positive feedback...Sometimes its years before you even cross my path. You've never made an effort to communicate with me; and my brother is one of your closest goddamn friends! So, I'm sorry, what exactly am I supposed to think? 'Oh, Chris, cares about me...He's just been playing hard to get for the last fourteen years!?'"

Chris was silent for a moment. He couldn't even look me in the eyes.

"You're right."

"I know I'm right!" I wailed, "but that still doesn't make up for the fact that you broke my heart, you selfish son of a bitch!"

Chris was eerily calm throughout my outburst, which only added fuel to the bitter fire that was raging within my core.

"Well, aren't you going to at least be man enough to stick up for yourself?!"

"I loved you—I've never stopped loving you, Madison," Chris answered after a brief silence. His eyes were pleading for me to understand. "I know I should have never put my wrestling career and my friendship with Jay before you, but by the time I figured that out, it was a little too late. You had moved on with your life, so I thought—and now, you seem so happy…I don't want to take that away from you…again."

"Happy?" I scoffed. The tears were now streaming down my cheeks. "I can't believe you bought that bullshit." I gestured to the picture he had held in his hands earlier. "Have you looked closely at him? He's virtually a carbon-copy of you: blonde hair, blue eyes, great smile, travels a lot. He even plays guitar."

Chris looked over at the photograph, but said nothing.

I sighed, wiping the tears off with the back of my hand.

"The only difference between the two of you is that I could get over him, but I…I just can't seem to get over you."

Chris gave me the most heart-wrenching look and reached over to grab my hand.

I recoiled.

"I can't forgive you for that…I just can't."

Silence followed. We both looked down at the floor.

"Slap me."

I jerked my head up.

"What?" I laughed.

"Slap me," Chris repeated.

He got to his feet and walked around the coffee table. He stood in the center of the room and gestured for me to join him.

"I have it coming," he said, "so get up and let it out."

I eyed him. He had clearly lost his mind.

"I'm not going to slap you."

"Yes, you are…I'm not going to move from this spot until you do."

"So what…The bathroom's on my side of the room anyway."

Chris smirked, folding his arms across his chest.

"Madison Katherine Reso, I demand that you get your ass up, come over here, and beat the shit out of me."

"Will you quit acting like a jackass if I do?" I sighed.

"I'm acting like a gentlemen," he corrected. "Jackasses put jumper-cables to their nuts and electrocute themselves. I am certainly not allowing you to do that. I plan on having children one day."

I still didn't budge.

"You're so stubborn," Chris groaned.

He walked around the table again and then grabbed me roughly by one wrist.

"What the hell are you doing?" I cried.

I was putting up a fight as he pulled me to the center of the room.

"Now slap me," he demanded, giving my wrist a jerk.

"Let go," I shrilled. "You're hurting me."

"Does that making you want to hit me?"

"You're acting insane. Stop it and let me go!"

"No."

"Chris!"

"Madison!"

In a vain attempt to break free, I stomped on his foot, which hurt me more than him because I was barefooted.

"That's a start," he grunted. "But you can do better than that."

With every tug and jerk, I was beginning to lose my cool. However, all it took to set me off was a smug little smirk.

I slapped him. It wasn't a hard slap, but it was a slap nonetheless.

He let me go.

"That's all?" He glared at me somewhat angry, probably due to my lackluster effort. "Come on now, I've been hit harder by a glow stick. Hit me again. Give me all you've got. Don't hold back."

I often had fantasies about getting the opportunity to slap the taste out of Chris's mouth; and now that the opportunity had presented itself, practically gift-wrapped, I found myself very reluctant. What was the joy in hitting a man that was volunteering?

Chris put his hand on my face and lightly pushed me. It didn't hurt, but it was rather insulting.

I stumbled back a few steps.

"Chris!" I shrilled, furious. "You're crossing the line now. Cut it out!"

He ignored me.

There was a stormy look in his eyes.

So I wasn't partaking in his foolishness. Was that any reason for him to be so angry with me?

I shook my head, silently answering my own question.

"This is ludicrous," I muttered.

I turned around and was about to walk back to the sofa.

Chris snatched my wrist again and spun me around so that I was facing him.

"I promised you the world, Madison," he said, looking deep into my eyes. "I promised you the world and then abandoned you. Not only that, I went on pretending like everything was copasetic between us. I acted as if nothing had happened between us. I didn't consider your feelings. I didn't care. I—"

A thunderous crack echoed throughout the room as my hand collided with the side of Chris's face. Fourteen years of pent-up frustration and been unleashed with one single slap. I hit him with such force that he stumbled backwards.

The sting of the collision sent a burst of adrenaline into my bloodstream.

Chris bravely stood before me. The imprint of my palm scarred his seemingly perfect face, but he didn't care.

He smiled. "Good girl."

I slapped him again for the sake of another thrill.

Chris said nothing in response. He just stared blankly at me and stood his ground.

Another slap was delivered to the opposite side of his face. If he was going to be branded on one side, I figured I might as well make things even.

Chris smirked, checking his lower lip for blood.

I had to admit that I was slightly aroused. There was something enthralling about the amount of masculinity that he was exuding at the moment.

"Do you feel better now?" he asked.

"No," I spat, shoving him as hard as I could. "Now I'm pissed that you pissed me off!"

Chris chuckled as he stumbled backward again.

"Why is it that you can be so incredibly sweet one minute and then completely irk me the next?" I demanded an answer, as if there was one.

I shoved him again…and again.

My chest was heaving as I stared Chris down. That's when I felt it—I felt that long forgotten invisible force; the one that stripped me of all thought and reason.

I growled and grabbed a handful of his shirt and forcefully pulled him toward me.

There was nothing graceful about the kiss. It was rough, reckless, passionate—symbolic of our relationship.

Chris moaned in surprise as I practically climbed into his arms. I had handful of his hair and one leg wrapped around his waist; I wasn't giving him the chance to pull away…or breathe for that matter.

We were tripping over our feet and slamming into every object and/or wall that was in our path; but we somehow managed to make it to my bedroom before we collapsed.


	8. Winter Nights with the Chupacabra

**Disclaimer: I do not own Chris Jericho or anything else pretaining to World Wrestling Entertainment. I am just a fan; and I am not profiting from writing this piece.**

**Author's Note: This is the final chapter. I know my stories tend to be short. The reason being is that I have an issue with completing long, drawn-out ones; so if this irks you in any way, I apologize.**

* * *

It was now eight o'clock. After expending the last iota of my sexual energy, I rolled off of Chris and fell onto the king-size bed. I giggled as I looked over at him. He had this satiated, goofy expression across his face.

He sighed, putting his hands behind his head.

"That was…not what I was expecting."

"I'm sorry," I laughed as I snuggled against his sweaty, bare chest. "I kind of pounced on you like the frickin' Chupacabra. It wasn't very ladylike."

"Hey, I'm not saying I minded being 'pounced on like the frickin' Chupacabra,'" he laughed in response. "I'm just saying that it wasn't what I was expecting. You've loathed my very presence since I arrived; and now here I am…Will this be occurring every time I make you angry? If so, I'm really going to have to up my cardio work-out in preparation for the future."

I smiled. "That might be a good idea. I've been known to pull all-nighters."

Chris chuckled, lightly running his fingers up and down my bare shoulder.

"Madison Reso—graphic designer, perpetual damsel in distress, and an unforeseen sex-kitten…You're definitely one well-rounded individual."

"And you're—Well, I had better not finish that thought. I'll get riled up again, and then we'll never get out of bed."

Chris grinned and kissed the top of my head.

We lay bed silent, with exception of Chris humming _Sex & Candy_.

"Are you hungry?" I asked him after a moment, "Because I'm famished."

He looked down at me and raised a brow. "I wonder why?"

I rolled my eyes, giggling.

"Well, sexually assaulting you takes a lot out of me…I, for one, think a world-famous Christmas breakfast is in order."

Chris thought for a moment and then nodded in agreement.

"That sounds great…You go ahead and get started on it. I'll be there the minute my legs are fully-functional again."

I giggled and gave him a long, lingering kiss before I got out of bed. I dressed in what clothes I could find. My tank top was no where in sight, so I put on Chris's shirt; and then I scampered out of the room.

Articles of clothing were scattered throughout the hallway. Several pictures had been knocked off the wall, so I picked them up and neatly hung them back in their proper places. A fallen picture of Nick caught my eye.

I had cheated on my boyfriend of almost three years. Was I callous for not caring? Did it make me a bad person for not wanting to take back the night that Chris and I had shared, even if I could? I wasn't sure what was going to happen from here. Was Chris finally ready to settle down? Was he certain that he wanted to settle down with me? Or would this rekindled affair be like before, where we maintain a blurred line between good friends and something more than that? God, I hoped not. We were both in our thirties. Hell, he was approaching forty, so surely we would be adults about this now.

Oh, well, Chris and I had all day to figure things out. I let out a cheerful chirp at the thought of spending an entire day with him; a day that would involve making up for lost time and not beating him senseless. I left the Nick photo where it laid and practically skipped into the kitchen.

I froze upon seeing the bleach-blonde haired gentlemen sitting at the table. He had a stack of Christmas presents sitting next to the morning paper. He looked up from his steaming cup of coffee and gave me a cheeky little smirk.

"You are quite the moaner, little sis."

"Jay," I forced a smile and nervously entered into the room. "How did you get in? When did you get in?"

My brother held up the house keys I had given him in case of emergencies.

"Gee, it's good to see you, too," he chuckled, "and no taking the next flight out of Kansas City, in an effort to be here to spend Christmas with you, was not a problem at all; No need to show your appreciation. It's not like I'm exhausted or anything."

"Sorry…It's nice to see you, Jay. I'm glad you made it…Merry Christmas."

_Stay in the room, Chris. Stay in the goddamn room!_

Jay nodded, setting his coffee cup on the table.

"That's better." He grinned and then teasingly waggled his eyebrows. "By the sounds of it, I couldn't have arrived at a better time…Nick made it home, I take it."

"Uh…I guess you could say that," I sputtered as I quickly walked to the counter to pour myself a cup of coffee. The color had completely drained from my face.

_Stay in the room, Chris. Stay in the goddamn room! _

"So, I pretty hauled-ass for nothing?"

"Uh…"

Jay ignored my inability to form sentences and pressed onward.

"I tried calling you earlier this morning, but all I got was your voicemail…I see you survived last night. Did you loosen up like I told you to? Did you give Chris a chance?"

My coffee mug shook in my hands as I turned to face my brother; I gripped the mug firmly with my other hand in hopes that my trembling wouldn't be as noticeable.

"You could say that," I squeaked, slowly taking a seat in front of him.

He sighed in relief and leaned back in his chair.

"That's good…It was aggravating having my two favorite people at odds with each other. Why were you even at odds to begin with?"

I avoided eye contact and shrugged.

"So, are we the Rat Pack again, or is that too soon to tell?" he asked.

"I'm going to go with the too-soon-to-tell option for now," I replied, taking an anxious sip of my coffee. I tried to force down the abnormally bitter liquid without spitting it out. I must have put salt in my mug instead of sugar.

Jay stared at me for a moment.

I shuffled uncomfortably under his studious gaze. I could have sworn I was sweating—sweating signs of guilt.

"What's the matter with you?" he asked, laughing.

"Nothing," I replied as I looked into a pair of green eyes that were identical to mine.

"Yeah, right…If you're embarrassed about the whole Sounds of Sex soundtrack, don't be. I mean, yeah sure, it's not something every brother wants to hear, but I'll get over it."

I pointlessly took another gulp of coffee.

"Uh…It's not that."

"Hey, babe, have you seen my—" Chris came sauntering into the kitchen. He had my bed sheets wrapped around him like a toga. When he saw his best friend sitting at the table with me, he froze for a moment.

"—Pants?" he finished awkwardly.

"Chris? What are you—?"

It took Jay a moment to realize what had occurred between Chris and me. His eyes frantically looked from Chris, to me, back to Chris, and then finally they fixed on me again.

"He's naked," he shrieked suddenly, causing me to jump. "Why is he naked? Why is he naked and wearing your bed sheets, Madison?"

Chris and I were silent.

"Dude! I trusted you!" Jay wailed after a moment, glaring at Chris. He picked up one of the presents he had brought and chucked it at Chris's head.

Chris ducked. The present whizzed past him and hit the corner of the door frame. Whatever had been inside the box could be heard shattering upon impact.

"Calm down, Jay," Chris said in a soothing voice as he held up his hands in self-defense.

"Calm down? You want me to calm down? You broke the golden rule of brotherhood, man: Thou shalt not covet thy best friend's sister's ass!"

"There's no such rule."

I was unnerved by Jay's reaction; and Chris was laughing it off.

"Well, I just made it one," Jay spat and then looked at me. "I told you to give him a chance. That wasn't an opening for you to sleep with him! And Nick, what about Nick? Oh, please, please, tell me that you two were totally fershnickened. If you were maybe, just maybe, I can get over the emotional scarring long enough to overlook this and keep my mouth shut."

Chris came to stand behind me, as if to somehow protect me from Jay's wrath. He placed both hands on my shoulders, which only irked my brother more.

Jay's left eye was twitching as he glared at us.

"There's no need for the shrewd melodramatics," Chris said.

"It's not like we planned this," I added, gripping one of Chris's hands as I spoke. "In fact, all I've ever wanted to do was yank out Chris's spine and try to strangle him with it."

"Rip out my spine?" Chris looked down at me with a raised brow. "Don't you think that's a bit harsh, considering how I let you smack me around and all?"

"This was before you let me do that," I replied, looking up at him with a smile.

"Do you honestly think you could rip out my spine, let alone strangle me with it?"

"Yes, I believe I probably could."

"Doubtful…However, you could easily herniate a couple discs."

I giggled.

"Oh, for the love of Mary, Joseph, and sweet baby Jesus," Jay groaned. "Hello, disgruntled brother and best friend still in the room. So can it with the innuendos!"

"Sorry."

"Sorry."

Jay rolled his eyes, disgusted.

I continued to gaze tenderly at Chris. He smiled as he looked down at me. His eyes seemed to echo my sentiments. He gently cupped my face in his hand and gave me a long, slow, picture-perfect kiss. I think he was doing so mostly to spite Jay.

"Have you no shame whatsoever?" Jay groaned.

That question was directed at either one of us.

I stared at my brother for a moment or two.

Then, with a Chris Jericho-like smirk across my face, I retorted, "On lonely winter nights, we all delve into a good box of porn; so what's there to be ashamed of?"


End file.
